


it smells like rain in my dreams

by YouarethereasonIwrite



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Chuck E. Cheese's, Domestic, Everyone Loves Hinata, Fluff, Genderfluid Character, Memes, Movie: Shrek (2001), Multi, Other, Shrek - Freeform, Shrek is Love Shrek is Life, The Bee Movie - Freeform, Trans Character, hinata is his son, ushijima as a dad au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8313415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouarethereasonIwrite/pseuds/YouarethereasonIwrite
Summary: Ushijima Wakatoshi adopts Hinata Shouyou when he's 27 years old. 
This is the story of a lonely man who drowns in the rain of his dreams until the sunshine drives the storms away.





	1. chocolate chip pancakes

 

 

After rewatching the _Shrek_ sequels four times in a row that night, Ushijima Wakatoshi seriously asked himself why he decided to adopt a child. With dead eyed glee that matched Oikawa’s unenthusiastic cheer after finding out they were paired up for a science project in college, Ushijima robotically flicked through his Netflix account to play the next movie in the playlist for his rambunctious, yet lovable, son, Ushijima Shouyou.

“Daddy, daddy! Play that one, that one!” Hinata chirped joyfully, characteristically unaware of the suffering he was putting his precious “daddy” in. Ushijima weakly smiled, a stilted attempt still gone unnoticed by the hyped up child who clung onto his _Shrek_ plushie with manic glee. Ushijima deeply regret allowing Hinata a handful of chocolate chip cookies an hour beforehand--how was _he_ supposed to know that giving children sweets past eight would keep them up at night?

He grunted, sitting his hard ass down on the couch after the small amount of time taken to refill his full cup of water just to escape the horrid images of Shrek, his literal asshole friend, and the constant question of _when will it end?_ Every time he excused himself to the bathroom or to run a quick errand, his bouncy son would immediately wail out his name, demanding for his father to return to see “Shrek beat the big, bad dragon” or “Fiona pull out an arrow from Shrek’s bum”, all with unconcealed laughter.

Ushijima zoned out on Farquaad demanding for his guards to gut Shrek like how he wished someone would gut him. The poor brunette pat his son on the head, wondering if he needed to send apology cards and fruit gift baskets to the neighbors _again_ lest they call in another noise complaint. And that was saying something considering Ushijima lived alone in an actual house with a wooden fence and ample amount of backyard to separate his house from the others.

“Did you hear him, daddy?!” Shouyou yelped, pointing rigorously at the screen while bouncing up and down in his seat, “OGRES ARE LIKE ONIONS!” He whooped, and it was like college dorm life all over again. Ushijima nearly suffered a mid high seizure attack from back when he roomed with memelord Tendou and his two best friends, Makki and Matsun.

It was just like yesterday when Ushijima was forced to watch _The Bee Movie_ and every episode of _Cory In the House_ and _That’s So Raven_. Admittedly, the children’s shows proved to be entertaining for a bunch of sleep deprived, procrastinating college students, but Ushijima had to watch all of those _every weekend._ And if he didn’t watch them then he would be in his bed, desperately cranking up death metal music to blare out the show theme songs and “Sugar, Honey, Honey” by the Archies.

He was instantly yanked out of memory lane (aka war flashbacks) from his son jumping up onto the couch and bouncing up and down on the cushions. He giggled insanely, a result from his sugar high that Ushijima would remember to never _ever_ permit to happen if he valued his sanity, sleep, and wallet money. Thinking fast, Ushijima quickly dialed one of Shouyou’s favorite uncles, who was granted special favoritism by being on speed-dial, with the speed and desperation of a babysitter losing the baby and calling their friends for help.

The call picked up after two rings. _“Ushijima? It’s like,”_ grunts and rustles could be heard as the man rolled over, _“midnight. What do you want?”_ Ushijima basked in the familiar, grumpy voice of his long time friend, who sounded like he was about to murder his ass for waking him up at the wee hours of night.

“Shouyou’s watching _Shrek_ again.” Another groan from his companion.

_“Again? Isn’t this, like, the tenth time this month?”_

“Actually, the eighth.”

 _“Don’t be fucking witty with me, Ushiwaka. It’s midnight and I’m not afraid to hang up and leave your nasty ass alone to deal with your son.”_ He snapped back, sounding fuzzy from the other line--most likely due from the migraine growing in Ushijima’s brain like a tumor full of nothing but _“ogres are like onions”_ and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Tendou singing along to “All Stars” by Smashmouth.

“I wasn’t aware I was being witty with you, Tooru.” Ushijima calmly responded, even though he kind of wanted to rip his hair out when Shouyou began quoting Shrek _again_. “Anyway, can you come over? Shouyou is quoting Shrek again.”

 _“Wow. That bad, huh?”_ A thick silence settled over them as Ushijima momentarily lost himself in the fairytale land of fictional ogres bathing in mud, talking asses, dragon and donkey lovemaking, and the multiple Shrek x Shadow fanfiction Tendou once bookmarked on his phone under the folder _“OLYMPIC VOLLEYBALL TECHNIQUES”._

 _“Ushiwaka? Yoohoo, anyone there?”_ The scene with Shrek talking to an upside down Donkey played on the screen. Ushijima’s mind was officially broken.

“That’ll do, Donkey, that’ll do,” came his scarred, broken voice that cut clearly into the line.

 _“Oh…_ **_fuck._ ** ”

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


Ushijima didn’t know when the idea of adopting planted firmly into his head; all he did know was that it was a pesky weed, refusing to be uprooted from its comfy spot in his brain. The brunette vaguely remembered a mocking Oikawa proudly claiming Ushijima would be the most awful, worst parent known to humankind. Iwaizumi stood beside him, cold and quiet as a rock, but he nodded in agreement.

Well, that and his pressing mother who practically demanded he settle down by now. And yes, he was a twenty seven year old sadly married to his job and content with the solitude of his cold house, _thanks mom_ . And _yes,_ Ushijima sometimes wished he wasn’t so alone in this cruel, lonely world. Especially being a well known CEO of the Ushijima Corporation, the tall man should have settled down with a nice girl (or guy or another gender; his mother wasn’t picky) and began raising a soccer club full of children, but instead, Ushijima sat alone, watching reruns of _The Office_ on his free days with buttery fingers and the taste of salty regret in his mouth.

Regardless, Ushijima was _fine._

“You’re not fine, Ushiwaka.” Oikawa Tooru, old college volleyball enemy and current volleyball coach, snidely pointed out over a round of drinks--Ushijima’s treat, of course. Even after all these years, Oikawa still remained bitter over his team losing to Ushijima’s during high school (at least, that’s what Ushijima thought), so actually hanging out with Oikawa meant basically paying for a host with how empty Ushijima’s wallet was once the night was over.

Ushijima frowned, a little buzzed from the constant shots of straight vodka he was taking over the span of two hours. Oikawa watched, mildly impressed and entirely entertained by how unsophisticated and _not perfect_ Ushijima fucking Wakatoshi was acting.

“I’m fine.” Ushijima insisted, but it tasted like sour mold on his tongue and polluted his system like an annoying virus. “I don’t see why everyone keeps saying I’m not.” For once, Oikawa regarded him with a pitying look, staring at Ushijima like he was blinder than a bat for not noticing his own loneliness.

“Come on, Ushiwaka,”

“Don’t call me that.” He intercepted, but Oikawa shot him down with a firm hand.

“Even Daichi has begun asking about your wellbeing. And--newsflash!--Daichi is as perceptive to others as _Narcissus_ was in the Greek mythology.” Ushijima rose a fine bushy eyebrow at the comparison.

“Are you calling Daichi vain and selfish?” Ushijima asked, then tactlessly added, “Reminds me of someone…” Oikawa huffed angrily, gulping down his own rum with a pissed off expression that looked more like a pouty face to Ushijima than an actual intimidating frown. It seemed more like a “mock me more” gesture than a “say another word and I’ll beat your ass into the ground” sign.

“Rude as fuck.” Oikawa sniffed, turning his nose up like he smelled something foul. “And here I am, graciously giving you advice to help you with your sad and pitiful life.”

“I make more money than you and Iwaizumi combined.” Ushijima rudely pointed out, downing another shot of vodka and immersing himself in the warmth it brung. Oikawa grit his teeth, slamming the cup of rum raised halfway to his face onto the bar with slit eyes. The bartender shot them both a concerned, but also irritated look in their direction, but it was drowned out by the tension between the rivals.

“You’re a real asshole, you know, Ushiwaka?” Oikawa seethed, hissing like a coiled up snake about to attack. Ushijima blinked boredly. Wild, hulking eagles like him weren’t intimidated by meager prey, after all.

“I am aware. You tell me every time we meet.” Ushijima shrugged nonchalantly and picked at the side of fries he ordered. Dipping one in ketchup, the taller male chewed on a french fry thoughtfully, zoning out on Oikawa’s face as the brunette cursed him out with such colorful language, he could paint a rainbow.

“And another thing---!” Oikawa progressively turned more crimson as he tipped back more rum, called over the annoyed bartender for another drink, and ranted on how disgusting of a person Ushijima was. He repeated that cycle three more times before the bartender “kindly” and wisely suggested Ushijima take his friend home before he hurt himself. Or before the bartender smashed a wine bottle over Oikawa’s head.

“I’ll call Iwaizumi.”

“Call h-him, then!” Oikawa slurred, resting his head on top of the cool bar. “He’s my beautiful cactus!” Ushijima decided to ignore the blabbering male, but he did keep the last bit as blackmail. After dialing Iwaizumi, who sounded as pleased to talking to Ushijima as his estranged father, the taller male slid the half full shot glass out of Oikawa’s reach.

“H-Hey! Gi-gimme that back!”

“I think that’s enough for one night, Oikawa.” Ushijima simply stated, munching on a french fry with interest.

“No!” Oikawa childishly puffed out his cheeks. “I need to use up all your money!”

“You’re not making enough money as a volleyball coach, are you?” Ushijima nodded in satisfaction at his own deducting skills. “This is why you should have come to Shiratorizawa.”

“Did you fucking just--”

“ _Shittykawa_.” The two seconds it took for Oikawa to shut up and pale faster than a dead person was both alarming and impressive. Ushijima waved to Iwaizumi, who nodded stiffly at the taller male before returning his attention to his drunk as fuck husband.

“H-Hajime!” Oikawa, even as inebriated as he was, averted his eyes. He already grew accustomed to situations like this, so even though Oikawa’s brain was barely functioning, he already knew that Iwaizumi was straight _pissed_.

“What did I say about drinking too much, Asskawa?!” Iwaizumi demanded, his toned arms rippling with uncontained anger as he crossed them. “You know your liver can’t take that much alcohol!”

“But, Hajime!” Oikawa droned, puffing out his crimson cheeks in a seemingly cute manner (if Iwaizumi’s pink cheeks were any indication). The brunette slumped over on the bar, dramatically lying down with his arms splayed out while Ushijima watched, intrigued. This was better than any soap opera in his opinion.

“I was trying to make Ushijima go bankrupt!” He hiccuped.

“Highly impossible.” Ushijima retorted. Iwaizumi glared at Ushijima, who just held up his hands in mock defense. “I’m just stating the facts.”

“Shut up, Ushiwaka.” Oikawa muttered. Iwaizumi couldn’t agree more.

“Let’s go, Trashykawa.” Iwaizumi, with all his brazen attitude and prickly demeanor, gingerly picked up Oikawa in a princess hold, a soft gleam of pure admiration and clear adoration shining in his dark eyes. Oikawa slumped his head against Iwaizumi’s neck, a strong grip of his spindly fingers attaching to Iwaizumi’s dark blue t-shirt.

“Thanks for the call, Ushijima.” Iwaizumi awkwardly said, eyes never quite leaving his lover’s. Ushijima was tipsy enough to roll his eyes at that point.

“Don’t worry, Iwaizumi. I expect a favor in return.” He monotonously said. At Iwaizumi’s blank stare, Ushijima clarified, “It was a joke.”

“Oh.” Thick tension unravelled like mist around the two. “Well, bye.” Iwaizumi nodded one last time before forcing his way through a hazy crowd who rubbed against each other like horny animals in heat. Ushijima blinked once, watching the fading back of his acquaintances leave the bar, one completely smashed while the other a worrying mother hen.

He thought of their assumptions, of the couple’s strong beliefs in his inability to raise a child all by himself. Ushijima cupped the tiny shot glass in his hand, musing about a child’s hand in his own, like the warming glass in the center of his palm. He thought about alleviating his solitude with the bright, beaming grin of a toothless child, and the bumbling energy of something so innocent and pure, he wished to protect them forever.

Maybe it was his own drunken musings that brought him to messaging his secretary. Or maybe it was the inner voice of his heart, urging him to solve the problem of his obvious loneliness (that even _Daichi_ could see).

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


“I can’t fucking believe this.” Oikawa uttered with no filter, staring at a hyped up Shouyou with crossed arms and eyebrows up to his hairline. Ushijima nodded sagely, though he frowned at Oikawa’s word choice.

“Language.” He scolded, eliciting a haughty scoff from the shorter male who stormed his way through the archway leading to the living room in total disarray. Between the lapses of Ushijima surrendering to the overlord known as Shrek, Shouyou’s wild nature due to sugary treats, and Oikawa finding a cab in the middle of the night, Ushijima’s house now suffered an extreme makeover: the couch somehow sat in the middle of the room now, pillows were thrown in different locations with a few fine feathers floating down from the ceiling, and the volume on the tv blasting the first _Shrek_ movie.

“BETTER OUT THAN IN, I ALWAYS SAY.” Shrek’s thick Scottish accent bellowed in the dead of the night. Oikawa groaned loud enough for the aliens to hear in space. With a quick search of the trashed living room, the brunette found the missing television remote and managed to mute the movie (“Oh, thank _God_ ,” Ushijima sighed in relief) and turn off the tv. Like a spell, once the sound clicked off, Shouyou halted in his tracks.

“Awww, why did you turn it off, Uncle Tooru?” Shouyou whined. He paused, suddenly realizing than an additional guest was currently standing in their house. With a sunny smile, Shouyou raced up to Oikawa, his chubby hands reaching out to the older male for Oikawa to pick him up. Oikawa melted, easily falling under Shouyou’s spell crafted from sticky, chocolate covered baby cheeks curled back into a shiny, beaming smile. Shouyou did always have an effect on people.

“Uncle Tooru, Uncle Tooru!” Shouyou exclaimed, patting Oikawa’s cheek as confirmation that his favorite uncle was indeed before him. Ushijima sauntered up to the duo, standing behind Oikawa like a hulking statue and as awkward as Futakuchi’s oversized boy, Takanobu.

“Oh, daddy, can’t he stay, please? Please?” Shouyou begged. He was the picture of adorable with his chubby hands clasped together like a prayer and a puppy pout more effective than an actual puppy’s. Ushijima never stood a chance in the first place.

He turned to Oikawa, who was rocking the hyperactive child up and down in his hold, the softest glint in his eye since Iwaizumi kissed him at the altar. “You heard the man.” Shouyou preened under the attention from his favorite people, but quickly altered his face to something more adorably pathetic.

“Pwease?” Oikawa crumbled like his volleyball career. With a sharp exhale and an exhausted slump of his shoulders, Oikawa dug out his smartphone and quickly dialed his husband. While he waited for the other line to pick up, Shouyou fiddled with Oikawa’s volleyball phone charm, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he knocked at the charm with tiny kitten like paws. And yeah, Ushijima may or may not have recorded the whole thing on his phone.

After Oikawa ended the brief call from Iwaizumi, which would have extended longer if Shouyou had a say in it, the older male pocketed his phone once more, staring expectantly at Ushijima.

“Where am I sleeping?” Ushijima nodded. He led Oikawa over to one of the spare guest rooms (there was like three) and opened the door for their guest. Oikawa wrinkled his nose at the plain white-walled room with a single queen bed, a dresser, and a large mirror on the side. It spoke volumes of how unused these rooms were and it was a wonder why Ushijima purchased a house as large as this one in the first place.

“I’m definitely redecorating for you.” Oikawa declared, sitting himself down with an armful of Shouyou. The orange haired child wiggled in his grasp until the other set him down on the bed. Unfortunately for the adults, Shouyou decided jumping up and down on the mattress would be an excellent idea at almost one am in the morning.

“You’re going to hit your head, Shouyou,” Oikawa warned, patting his own head for good measure. That didn’t seem to deter the child whatsoever for he continued to bounce.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you then…” Oikawa trailed off mysteriously as he stood up and stretched. His ambiguous statement immediately caught Shouyou’s attention, and the boy stopped temporarily to cock his head to one side at his uncle.

“Whaddya mean, uncle?” Shouyou, the curious boy he was, crawled over to Oikawa and tugged on his sleeve. Oikawa feigned ignorance for a moment, swinging his head back and forth to search for Shouyou. The little boy giggled, “catching” Oikawa’s attention so that the taller male could find him.

“You mean your daddy never told you?” Both Oikawa and Ushijima ignored the chill from the words Oikawa never expected to say in front of Ushijima’s child of all people. Wakatoshi and daddy was _not_ something sane people would string together into a sentence, but Oikawa’s known some _interesting_ (if not straight up weird) people in his lifetime.

“Nu-uh!” Shouyou shook his head back and forth. “What is it, Uncle Oikawa? What is it?”

“I don’t want to scare you…”

“No! I’m a big boy now, Uncle Oikawa! I’m six!” Shouyou displayed his age with his six fingers, wiggling each of them in determination to show his favorite uncle how old he was. Oikawa’s eyes softened again before he steeled himself to continue with the story.

“Okay then…” He leaned in closer, beckoning the tiny child to his face so that he could dramatically whisper in Shouyou’s ear. “If you hurt your head, the aliens will know.”

“Aliens?!” Shouyou exclaimed at the same time Ushijima snorted. Oikawa sent a dirty glare to Ushijima when Shouyou was too preoccupied staring up at the ceiling in wonder. “Didn’t you say aliens are our friends, uncle?” Oikawa nearly cried. He taught the boy well.

“Yes,” he nodded sagely, “I did. But there are bad aliens too!”

“Oh no!” Shouyou yelped.

“And they know when children get hurt… They can _hear_ it!” Oikawa tickled Shouyou’s ear with his nimble fingers, prompting the younger boy to let loose a small giggle before gasping shrilly.

“They can hear it when I get a boo-boo?”

“Yes, Shouyou. And if you keep jumping up and down on that mattress, you can get hurt! And the bad aliens will come closer and closer…” As he spoke, the volume of his voice lowered and lowered until it was nothing but a mere whisper. Shouyou edged closer to Oikawa, straining to listen to Oikawa’s soft story spoken in a light wisp of sound. Even Ushijima leaned in from his stationary spot at the doorway.

“AND THEY’LL GET YOU!” Oikawa suddenly yelped, spooking the son-father duo. Ushijima managed to hide his jump from behind Oikawa; Shouyou did not. The tiny child flung back in fear at the abrupt noise as Oikawa attacked him with long fingers that dug at his sensitive, ticklish spots.

“Ahhh!” Shouyou screamed. His fearful scream eventually turned to bouts of uncontainable laughter that permeated the air like heavy perfume. Ushijima could feel the corners of his lips tugging up. He uncrossed his heavy lead arms and wandered over to the two laughing people.

“It’s time for bed, Shouyou.” He said in the softest, kindest voice he could muster. Shouyou bobbed his head up and down, the weariness of his bones finally settling in as he crashed from his sugar high. Ushijima easily hefted up his son, patting the back of Shouyou’s unruly sunset locks with a warm, calloused palm. Shouyou melted like goo under his ministrations and he snuggled his face up to Ushijima’s pulse.

In under three seconds, quiet snores rose from his prone form, and Ushijima fondly pecked his son on the forehead. Time passed by too quickly, he thought with anguish. It was only a little while back when he cradled a tiny four year old Shouyou straight after the papers were filled out and he could bring his little son home. Shouyou could barely utter comprehensible words at the time, but with Ushijima’s daily bedtime stories and his secretary Shirabu Kenjirou’s help, Shouyou learned how to properly form sentences.

And now, Shouyou was about to be enrolled in kindergarten in two days. Ushijima was both excited, yet reluctant to seeing his son grow up so fast, but he knew that if Shouyou were to eventually become independent, he would have to be the first one to let go.

“If I didn’t know you any better, I’d be terrified of your soft expression right now.” Oikawa interrupted the little moment between father and son. Ushijima swung his heavy head to his friend, an almost teasing smile on his face that was completely hard to see because of his brick like face.

“Correction: if you didn’t hate me as much, you’d be terrified of my ‘soft expression’ right now.” Oikawa snorted out an inelegant laugh.

“You’re not wrong, Ushiwaka.” The man agreed, sliding into the bed with a tiredness only a new parent with their first child would have. Oikawa stared up at the ceiling, oddly pensive and lacking insults and retorts on his thorny tongue. Ushijima half expected a meteorite to crash into the earth, wiping all of humanity with how peaceful Oikawa was in Ushijima’s presence for once.

“I never would have expected you to adopt a child. And raise them like this.” Oikawa admitted, his tongue loose from his addled brain. He was obviously exhausted and his brain muddled if the man was actually saying something _decent_ about Ushijima without any jeers.

“I didn’t think I would either.” Oikawa laughed, laughed like it was the funniest joke he’s heard in years. No underlying bitterness was seeped under his tone like poison, and no haughty remarks spewed out of Oikawa’s mouth. It was odd, but a nice change to all the pent up frustrations they held towards each other. Maybe they could finally turn a new leaf.

“Well, I’m gonna go to sleep now.” Oikawa announced, shooing Ushijima out of the door with his hand like a reprimanding mother. Ushijima smiled down to his son, thinking of how much of a miracle Shouyou was to even sweeten up a bitter, salty Oikawa.

“I’m still decorating your house, by the way. Your decorating skills are just as shitty as your captain skills when you were in Shiratorizawa.” Ushijima sighed, closing the door behind Oikawa with one hand after flicking off the room’s light. Or they could stay enemies, that’s cool too.

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


“Kindergarten, kindergarten!” Shouyou sang with his own tune, his tiny unmatched feet waddling back and forth between his room as Ushijima chased him around with the missing sock that should be on Shouyou’s left foot, but the psyched child continued to ignore his father’s grief.

“Shouyou, stay still.” Ushijima commanded, his dad voice nearly booming throughout the whole house in his frustration. He was already almost late to his own meeting for work, and judging by his attire (pajama bottoms and a suit on top), Ushijima was just as ready to leave the house as Shouyou.

“Okay, daddy!” Luckily, Shouyou was _not_ a recalcitrant child, and he easily climbed up on his bed to stick his sockless foot up for Ushijima. Once Shouyou was completely dressed, Ushijima directed him to wait downstairs while he changed. He figured they would both be eating granola bars and overripe bananas on the drive to school, so Ushijima didn’t bother telling Shouyou to fix his own bowl of cereal.

After he changed into proper attire, Ushijima quickly fled down the stairs with his unzipped briefcase slung over his shoulder and both his hands fixing a maroon tie his mother sent him last Christmas. He was expecting his son to be sitting in front of the television, watching _Power Rangers_ or something. What he _wasn’t_ expecting was for Shouyou to be sitting down in the dining room, socked feet kicking up a storm underneath the table as he shoveled warm pancakes in his squirrel like cheeks.

“Shouyou?” He asked, bewildered. Maybe he was hallucinating? Or maybe it was the lack of sleep after fighting with Oikawa over whether or not aliens existed. Point is, Ushijima didn’t understand how Shouyou would be able to either a) make breakfast himself or b) find pancakes in the span of time it took for the older male to dress himself.

The warm, rich smell of piping hot pancakes instantly erased his hallucination theory. The biggest question now was who broke into the house to _make_ those pancakes? Ushijima gunned it to the kitchen. He defrosted himself from the ice statue of shock he previously was, then dashed into the kitchen with his arms raised and ready to beat the ever living shit out of the intruder.

“Freeze!” He yelped, one fist launched back and ready to fight. Ushijima blinked. He observed the figure before him, which did not appear anything like his active imagination entailed: black ski mask with holes over the eyes, garden gloves, all black attire, a can of rat poison in his grasp, and a heinous, malicious grin.

“Oh, Wakatoshi,” came the pleasant reply from the sunflower apron clad person. “How lovely for you to join us.” Their smile matched the bright flower on their white, flowing apron as they spun around to flip another chocolate chip pancake perfectly onto a large plate. They sprinkled a bit of cinnamon on top (or magical pixie dust, knowing the person) before setting the plate down next to Shouyou’s. Speaking of his son, the orange haired boy shoveled down his stack of pancakes with manic glee, his cheeks bulging like a chipmunk’s. He showed no signs of stopping to inhale, and Ushijima would normally be worried for his son’s sake, but his stomach growling was enough distraction for him to plop down adjacent to his son and gulp down his own fill.

“Thanks, Koushi.” Ushijima said in between his bites. Shouyou nodded gleefully in agreement. Sugawara laughed, a clean and clear sound like angels singing in the background while strumming their golden harps.

“Like father, like son, huh?” Sugawara chuckled, softly padding over to both males with a pile of napkins in their grasp. They easily wiped Shouyou’s mouth clean after the boy finished scarfing down pancakes like a starving man, but found a bit more trouble with Ushijima. The older adults shared an awkward, contemplative standoff before Sugawara rolled their eyes and firmly pressed a napkin to Ushijima’s syrup-crumb covered face.

Ushijima glanced around. At finding no other plates with fluffy goodness, he owlishly scrutinized Sugawara. “You’re too thin.” He said, sizing up the graceful form of his longtime friend. The silver haired person rolled their eyes.

“I already ate at home, Wakatoshi. Anyway, do you want me to take Shouyou to school first? I know you have a meeting at eight.” The clock read 7:49 am. Ushijima decisively shook his head. Shouyou was his first priority always. Always.

Sugawara sighed, knowing they would receive more frantic text messages from Goshiki while Shirabu would send like one message inquiring the whereabouts of Ushijima as if Sugawara _always_ knew where the troublesome man was. Well, they kind of _did_ know Ushijima’s locations at all times, but only by the default of their psychologist mannerism, which enabled them to dissect and understand how a man like Ushijima worked. Not to mention their friendship from high school helped.

“I’ll message Shirabu.” Sugawara sighed again, but smiled when Ushijima shot them a grateful look. “Yeah, yeah, go on, you two.” They collected Shouyou in their arms for a brief hug, then helped Ushijima properly fix his crooked tie.

“Thanks for the pancakes, Kou!” Shouyou thanked as he began to tie on his shoelaces. Once he stood up, he proudly showed Sugawara and Ushijima his tied shoes and puffed out his chest when both adults clapped their hands at his flawless performance.

“Have a safe trip, Shouyou.”

“Come play with me more, Kou!” Shouyou pleaded as he travelled out the door with his back faced outside. Sugawara nodded, smiling with their eyes closed as they waved.

“I will, Shouyou.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Now, go on. You’re going to be late on your first day of school!” Sugawara motioned for Shouyou to the car with shooing hands. Shouyou bounced up, dashing straight to the parked car in the driveway as he beckoned for his slow father to hurry up. Ushijima huffed, a small smile growing on his lips.

“They grow up so fast, don’t they?” The taller male nodded. Sugawara chuckled once more, then pushed Ushijima out of the front door. “You’re going to be late too, Ushijima.”

“I’m already late though.” Sugawara rolled their eyes.

“Later than you already are, then. I’ll lock up once I leave.”

“Mm.” Ushijima nodded respectfully to his friend before making his way to the shiny gray van. After unlocking the vehicle, Shouyou opened the door all by himself (and Ushijima nearly teared up at the thought of his baby boy growing up) and slid into the car seat--all by _himself._ The younger impatiently waited for his father to strap him in, a string of complaints Ushijima swore Oikawa taught Shouyou to annoy him rolling freely off his tongue. Finally, after safely buckling his son into the car seat and pecking Shouyou on the nose, to which the latter giggled at, Ushijima closed the door behind Shouyou and headed to the front seat.

In five minutes, Ushijima managed to reverse out of the driveway, head out onto the neighborhood streets, and drive in the main roads towards Shouyou’s kindergarten. Fortunately for him, Shirabu successfully found a close school with excellent ratings for Shouyou, so Ushijima didn’t have to worry much.

“Daddy, do you think I’ll make lots of friends?” Shouyou wrinkled his nose, an oddly thoughtful expression on his face as he stared out the window. He had a knack for watching the colorful cars zoom by, each one holding different passengers with different stories in their lives. Shouyou liked people--he liked the diversity of them especially.

“Yes.” Ushijima grunted. Silence reigned in the car once more. Shouyou reverted back to gazing out the window, scanning the world with his observant chocolate eyes and humming a tune _Steven Universe_ taught him. His teeny legs thumped against his car seat like a rhythm of a song, casting the world around Ushijima in a vibrant, colorful world children lived in.

He peeked over to his son with the rearview mirror. Shouyou softly sang, orange curls bobbing up and down as he thumped his stubby legs. Ushijima smiled secretly to himself, a massive grin threatening to split his face in two. He truly loved his son.

Once the car parked, Ushijima set to the task of unbuckling his overzealous son and holding said son’s hand lest the boy run straight into an approaching car. Shouyou insistently tugged at his slow paced dad, but to no avail; Ushijima’s strength outweighed Shouyou’s puny arms.

“Daddy, hurry up!” Shouyou whined, his jittery feet nearly taking to the skies if Ushijima’s hand hadn’t anchored him down. Ushijima chuckled as he locked the door before handing Shouyou his backpack.

“You almost forgot it.” He simply said, petting his son on the hand when a strawberry hue smeared across Shouyou’s face.

“Right! Thanks, daddy!” Ushijima let go of Shouyou for one second to allow the orange haired boy to sling it over his shoulders. “Now, let’s go!” The brunette nodded, conceding to his son’s tugging on his wrinkled sleeve. They walked together hand in hand, Shouyou babbling to fill the void of silence between them, and Ushijima acknowledging his son with the occasional grunt. Once they arrived at the door of Shouyou’s classroom, Ushijima crouched down so he could be eye level with his flighty son.

Anxiety poured into Shouyou like thick layers of molten lava, and he was the volcano about to erupt. Ushijima considered calling Sugawara in desperate times such as these, but he remembered exactly who Shouyou’s parent was and stuck his hand out from his pocket. The older male softly pat Shouyou’s cheek, snapping the child out of his worry enhanced stupor.

“You’re a good kid, Shouyou.” He awkwardly praised. But, it was more than enough for Shouyou. The starry eyed boy bobbed his head up and down, the familiar cheery smile etched on his face as he hugged his father. Ushijima, despite being the older, mature, larger man, nearly melted like fondue in his son’s sunshine like hug.

“I love you, daddy.” Shouyou whispered. Ushijima froze, tears already welling up into his eyes. Before Shouyou left his arms completely, the brunette wrapped around Shouyou like someone fighting to stay alive. He sniffled quietly, but smiled as broad as the stretching sky. Ushijima’s fingers trembled, just a little, with quakes like a shaking autumn leaf.

“I love you too, Shouyou.” Ushijima replied, eyes sweeter than molten lava cake. He brushed his son’s curls back from his forehead before ruffling it in an insane hairdo that caused Shouyou to squawk like a tiny baby crow. He shielded his head from the incessant attacks from his dad, but snorted out childish giggles that Ushijima would never tire of.

“I’ll pick you up at 3.”

“Okay, daddy! Good luck with work!”

“Mm. I’ll see you later.” And then he walked away without turning back.

  


 


	2. chocolate ice cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ushijima is an overdoting parent who's super protective of his innocent son. Shouyou remains oblivious, even to the obvious infatuation his friends suddenly have towards him. Meanwhile, Sugawara can only sigh and hope to remain the only sane person in this whole ordeal.

 

 

 

Ushijima blankly stared at the person in front of him. He blinked owlishly, eyeing the other up and down, up and down. He stared at the shorter child behind them, who’s raven black hair reminded him of a certain stern, stone faced man with impressive thighs and dad like behavior that even overcame Ushijima’s.

“Sugawara.” He motioned to the child behind the silver haired person. “And child.” Sugawara rolled their eyes--a signature move that might as well be named after the person--and pet the strange half bedhead the little child seemed to have. It was like the red tufts of hair on a rooster’s head, only a shade of the midnight sky instead of puce.

“His name is Tetsurou, Ushiwaka.”

“Don’t call me that.” He said, but it fell on deaf ears. Sugawara barged in through the front door while the mysterious, cat like child trailed after him. Tetsurou blinked as he scanned the area like a curious kitten just adopted from the shelter.

At that moment, it clicked. The new child Ushijima’s never seen before, Sugawara randomly showing up on his doorstep, the curiosity of that child in this new environment---Sugawara was attempting to pawn off Tetsurou onto Ushijima…!

Before Ushijima could deny Sugawara--and in extension, Tetsurou--with a firm, authoritative shake of his head, Shouyou sprung out of the hallway connecting to his room and raced towards the unknown child standing confidently in the middle of the room. The brunette narrowed his eyes at the male. Something about him didn’t add up with Ushijima.

“Stop glaring at my son, Ushiwaka.” Sugawara teasingly said, “angrily” smacking Ushijima’s bicep. “By the way, Ushiwaka… What are you _wearing?_ ” They gestured to the monstrosity eating Ushijima alive; they also didn’t know where to start first if they were to begin roasting the taller male. The stoic male currently wore a Shrek onesie a shade of putrid booger green with alien like ogre ears sprouting from the top of his head. Shrek’s normal attire consisting of that crusty, moldy page colored long sleeve dress thing and the scaly poop brown vest he wore over was crudely drawn into the top of the pajama.

“I’m matching with my son.” Ushijima pointed out, nudging his head to the side to indicate Shouyou’s pajamas. Indeed, when Sugawara glanced over, they noticed the light gray of Shouyou’s onesies with donkey ears flopping down on the hood that was not yet drawn over his head. Sugawara stared at the child for a long time before switching an accusatory gaze over to Ushijima.

“Did you make him wear that hideous thing?”

“Shh. Don’t say that in front of Shouyou.” Ushijima stoically ordered, dragging Sugawara over until they were out of earshot of the two happily chatting children. “Shouyou loves Shrek.” Well, that explained a lot. Ushijima didn’t seem like an avid Shrek fan--he didn’t have the same vibes as Hanamaki, Matsukawa, and Tendou. They all proved to be utter trashy meme fucks.

“Why?” Sugawara tentatively questioned. They swung their head back to check up on Tetsurou and Shouyou, but the two children simply sat on the couch, watching _Steven Universe._ Now and again, Shouyou would excitedly motion to the television with flailing arms resembling a drowning person who didn’t know how to swim. In response, Tetsurou ducked out of the way of the offending arms, but didn’t seem too put out on his friend’s enthusiastic nature.

When they turned back to Ushijima, the man looked positively aghast and/or murderous. The brunette clenched his fist like that one Arthur meme in response to Tetsurou clinging like an octopus to his son. Sugawara snorted.

“Tendou convinced Shouyou _Shrek_ was the best movie in the world and that Shouyou would be ‘cool’ if he watched it.” Ushijima shrugged. He didn’t dare question the absurdity of the situation, or of the fact that Tendou was slowly raising his son into a dank memelord. On the other hand, Sugawara looked absolutely scandalized. They brought an offending hand over their chest while staring at Ushijima as if he admitted he lusted after dinosaurs.

“And you _let_ him?” Sugawara demanded. Ushijima shook his head, furrowing his dark eyebrows.

“No. He snuck in the house again. I was away on a business trip so Goshiki was taking care of Shouyou but apparently Tendou snuck in when they were both sleeping and convinced Shouyou to watch all the _Shrek_ movies.”

“ _All of them?_ ” Sugawara gasped.

Ushijima nodded, his face set as stone and reflecting the anguish he’s suffered for the past six months. “All of them.” He confirmed, and Sugawara tenderly placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, patting him in comfort. It was a nice thought, but Ushijima would no longer be able to leave the house without being triggered by the grass because it was as green as Shrek’s ass.

“Wait, what do you mean by ‘he snuck in the house _again_ ’? Sugawara clutched at their oversized sweater in apprehension, as if Ushijima spoke about the spookiest part in a horror movie. Ushijima thoughtfully stroked his chin before deciding he wasn’t cool enough to do that (yet).

“I gave Tendou a spare key once.”

“Bad idea.” Sugawara butt in. Ushijima nodded.

“Yeah. I took it back but I think he made like ten copies before I confiscated the original spare key. Now whenever he thinks I’m not home, he’ll just sneak into my house and steal my apple sauce.”

“Apple sauce?” Sugawara asked in dismay.

“Apple sauce--Shouyou loves eating apple sauce. He used to steal my pancake mix too until I stopped buying it.” Ushijima calmly stated as if Tendou stealing his groceries and sneaking into his house to corrupt his son with _Shrek_ was no big deal. Sugawara shook their head after a solid minute of staring into death’s frigid eyes. Anyone would too if they dealt with a low-key problematic Tendou.

“...Shouldn’t you be setting up a better alarm system or something? Change your lock maybe?”

“Tendou knows how to pick locks; he learned it from prison.”

“...Oh.”

“Anyway, could you tell your son to kindly _fuck off_ from my son? Or else I’ll show him the _Chinese Whistling Garden._ ” Ushijima threatened ominously; his hand reached into his pocket in a sinister manner to emphasize the fact that he was _not_ fucking around with Sugawara. However, when he revealed the item within his onesie, Sugawara facepalmed so hard they left an angry red mark on their forehead.

“Ushiwaka…”

“Yes?”

“Put back your electric toothbrush; you’re embarrassing me.” Ushijima slowly pocketed his toothbrush. “Thanks. Oh, and Ushijima?” Sugawara smiled tightly, lips pulled back into a baleful grin even Satan himself would fear. A chill sprinted down Ushijima’s spine in tendrils of fear.

“Yeah?” The taller male mentally pat himself on the back for forcing down his stutter. Sugawara’s face nearly split in half from how insanely wide they were grinning.

“Tell my son to fuck off one more time and I guarantee you’ll be shitting out your lungs for two weeks, do you understand me?” A menacing coil of black mist seemed to coat their aura and Ushijima swore the devil winked salaciously at him. He gulped.

“I understand.”

“Wonderful! Now, I’ll go make some snacks. Daichi said he’s on his way and Tooru is bringing Iwaizumi and some ginger snaps over. Go change into something decent.” Ushijima opened his mouth, but Sugawara beat him to it. “Please.”

Ushijima sighed heavily. He was torn between being physically beat up by Sugawara if he denied them or mentally bruised by his son’s watery pout. Deciding on living and breathing for his son, Ushijima reluctantly tread up the stairs to his lavish bedroom, a tiny frown on his face at the thought of Shouyou whining at his new outfit. Being so immersed in his musing, Ushijima didn’t quite notice the vast changes of his room until he heard the Spongebob theme song, and it was _not_ coming from the living room.

The brunette blinked. He gawked at the sight of said trashy memelord Sugawara and he were chatting about in the hallway. The spiky redhead curled up against another familiar face: one with sandy blond locks styled in a similar fashion to Oikawa’s and piercing olive eyes. A large red duvet blanketed their forms--which Ushijima desperately wished didn’t cover their possibly illegal and indecent acts--while a large gallon of melting chocolate ice cream seated in front of their laps.

“Oh, hey, Waka! I didn’t think you were coming back so soon!” Tendou waved playfully, wiggling his fingertips to Ushijima with a snicker already rising from his throat. Beside him, Semi waved nonchalantly but his eyes never tore away from the Spongebob episode.

“I never left my house.” Ushijima muttered, but the occupants of his bed didn’t register his low voice past Spongebob’s obnoxious laughter. In a way, Ushijima understood why Tendou loved the yellow sponge. It was a metaphor, you see, a metaphor of how the insufferable Tendou chose to laugh over his twin in the form of a yellow fictional sponge to hide his insecurities of how obnoxious he knew he was. Ushijima respected that.

However, he did not respect people breaking into his house, watching Spongebob on _his_ bed while casually eating food, and reenacting every single _Netflix and Chill_ stories out on Twitter. Ushijima sighed--again.

But he knew he could not stop Tendou from his binge watching and opted to head over to his closet instead of arguing with his friend. He sped past the television--earning him a few grunts from Semi and a lazy yell of “get out of the way, fatass” from Tendou--and nearly broke the closet door from how fast he booked it out of there. The male swore he saw certain hand movements under the blankets and he was _not_ about to perform voyeurism with his asshole childhood friends.

When he emerged from the closet (“Ha! He came out, Semi!” Tendou high fived his boyfriend), Ushijima blankly fixed his eyes on the couple until Semi finally blew out air from his mouth and detached himself from his clingy boyfriend. The shorter of the two pat his boyfriend on the cheek when the other whined.

“Sorry about the mess, Wakatoshi,” Semi dubiously apologized. Ushijima’s face morphed into a disgusted/horrified one at the possible implications behind Semi’s words. Before he could demand they pay for his dry cleaning, Tendou burst out of the covers clad in Semi’s smaller sweater (that clung to his upper body) and Deadpool boxers. Semi snorted, throwing Tendou his sweatpants that previously was strewn on the ground along with Semi’s jeans. Ushijima could only watch in an appalled silence.

“Well, we’d love to stay and chat, but…” The eye fucking between the two spoke volumes of their hesitance in staying at Ushijima’s house. In fact, Ushijima wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t returned to his bedroom sooner. Would the couple have fucked each other in the mattress _he slept in,_ then left? Would they clean up after themselves or leave the filthy sheets and (fuck it) a used condom on his pillow?

Ushijima gazed down at the chocolate ice cream. “That stays… But you can go.” He simply stated, relishing in the surprised exchange of looks between Semi and Tendou. Tendou grinned like that one cat emoji (:3c) and simply shrugged.

“Sure, whatever, man.” He snickered as he tugged on his sweat pants. The redhead slipped on his pizza slice socks and red converse (with rainbow shoelaces because he’s that gay), his lover copying his motions but in a more robotic sway. Finally, the two exited out from Ushijima’s window (??) like a bunch of weirdos.

Semi stopped midway out the window. His body loosely hung out like a bent string cheese.“Oh, by the way,” his eyes flicked down to the large gallon of chocolate ice cream, “I wouldn’t eat that if I were you.” Without any further explanation, Semi hopped out of the second story window and scaled down the side of Ushijima’s house like some parkour ninja.

Ushijima’s eyes flitted over to the untouched barrell of ice cream that lay innocently on the thick red blankets. He almost mentally broke down at the thought of what occurred in this room without his knowledge, but he stood strong for Shouyou. When his stiff limbs moved once more, he scooped up the gallon of dairy goodness and the large duvet in one hand, then exited his room with lightning feet.

The brunette deposited the blanket straight into his washer, closed the lid to forget the whole Tendou incident happened, and dashed down the stairs to throw away the melting ice cream. On his way to the kitchen, he noticed his son still watching episodes of _Steven Universe_ while Tetsurou had wiggled his way down to laying his head on Shouyou’s lap. Ushijima _fumed_.

“Oh, hey, Ushiwaka, what took you so--” _BAM!_ Sugawara blinked twice. They peered at the dripping chocolate ice cream that just got slam dunked into the trash can before returning their attention to the brownie batter they mixed.

“Tendou was here.” Ushijima nearly spat. A grumpy frown erased all his past constipated, emotionless faces as he grumpily glared at the trash can as if to exterminate its very existence. Sugawara made a noise of comprehension, a soft “ah” that sounded all too familiar to the both of them by now. The silver haired person poured the smooth batter into a huge baking pan before speaking.

“So, what was Tendou doing this time?” Ushijima grunted, crossing his arms and sulking like a little kid.

“He was doing Netflix and chill with his boyfriend. Again.”

“Again?” Sugawara halted in their movements of spreading out the batter into a smooth top. “Wait, nevermind. This _is_ Tendou we’re talking about.”

“He was watching Spongebob with his pants off.” Ushijima added, mainly out of bitterness for Sugawara bringing over their smarmy adopted child who needed to keep his hands off of Shouyou if he wanted to see the light of another day. Sugawara shot him a distressed look, but Ushijima paid them no mind.

“That still doesn’t explain the chocolate ice cream.” Fair point. Ushijima whipped out his smartphone from his pocket, selected his secretary’s number, and began typing with his pointer fingers. He had to balance his phone on the dining room table just to type out a small message for Shirabu; the only quirks of knowing the guy was that he used to date Semi before Tendou snatched Semi away with his permanent cat smirk and meme-ing ways.

 

**To: Honey Shiraboo-boo**

Tendou at house. Choco ice cream?

 

Ushijima narrowed his eyes at the contact. Tendou must have been messing around with his phone when they went out for drinks the other night. The spiky haired, narrowed eyed memelord really turned out to be more trouble than like every middle schooler in the world.

Sometimes Ushijima doubted his captain skills if Tendou morphed into the person he was now, but then he remembered Mad Dog from Aoba Jousai got arrested once on accident (no one asks about it) and Iwaizumi got pissed when he found out the guy used his only phone call to dial pizza.

Long story short, Oikawa abandoned his coaching work that day in order to bail Mad Dog’s dumb ass out. Luckily, Kindaichi was an unfortunate witness in the whole ordeal, and like the obedient kid he was, he called his mother and father.

Being a captain was underrated in Ushijima’s opinion--he still received calls from his high school volleyball coach now and again (who still hasn’t retired) to subtly ask if the brunette could come over to check on the team. Like, _no coach,_  I graduated _eleven years ago_ like why are you still calling me?

_Bzzt!_

**To: The Big Bad Boss**

You don’t want to know the story, Wakatoshi, unless you’re willing to sacrifice fifty years of your life. Oh and can I get a raise?

 

Ushijima nearly rolled his eyes and broke out of character---nearly. Shirabu _always_ asked for a raise as some sort of inside joke he shared with Goshiki and Taichi, but he refused to budge whenever Ushijima demanded to know. And yeah, technically Ushijima felt very _very_ excluded in his own friend group. He just didn’t want to admit it.

 

**To: Honey Shiraboo-boo**

Raise if u tell me

 

**To: The Big Bad Boss**

Ok but dont call me later saying you need a therapist

 

**To: The Big Bad Boss**

So basically Semi has this really big ass kink like full on ass play and Tendou’s favorite food is chocolate ice cream right? Well, they decided to “spice things up in the bedroom” but I guess it’s more of “sweeten things up” because next thing you know, Tendou shoves chocolate ice cream up Semi’s ass and is eating him out like it’s a Thanksgiving feast.

 

Ushijima is both alarmingly deathly pale and the same shade of blue fingernails are when you’re suffering from a heart attack apparently. He rereads the paragraph. He regrets, and repeat cycle. He’s only able to wrench his eyes away when Sugawara sets a cup of hot piping coffee in front of him and Shirabu banned caffeine from Ushijima after the whole board meeting fiasco, but Ushijima abstains that important minor detail from the literal angel.

 

**To: The Big Bad Boss**

Oh and if Tendou was at your house, I suggest you throw away all your ziplock bags.

 

**To: Honey Shiraboo-boo**

y?

 

**To: The Big Bad Boss**

You didn’t hear this from me, but… Leon heard from his friend’s friend’s uncle’s grandpa’s mother’s neice’s nephew’s twice removed cousin’s dog’s stepdad, who then told Taichi’s mom who told Goshiki that Tendou gets turned on when he eats chocolate ice cream out of a ziplock bag. He squeezes that shit out. Literally. Anyway, I expect a bonus, a promotion, and a $50 raise when I get into work on Monday.

 

**To: Honey Shiraboo-boo**

 

Double if you ban Tendou from my house.

 

**To: The Big Bad Boss**

Deal.

 

“Ushijima? Is everything alright? You just blanked out after reading your phone.” Sugawara commented in concern. Ushijima blankly fixed Sugawara with a vacant look. If they observed closely enough, they could definitely find Ushijima’s soul being strung out by the antichrist.

“Read this.” Ushijima monotonously ordered. He slid over the phone like he just exchanged valuable information with Sugawara and received hard drugs in return. Sugawara skeptically grabbed the phone off the dining room table, which the harder Ushijima stared at, the more he realized exactly how much the color of it reminded him of Semi. He teared up.

“Oh my god.” Sugawara gasped after two long seconds. Ushijima just nodded. The golden eyed person tossed the offending phone back to Ushijima, and said male barely caught it before the smartphone ducked into his coffee. Sugawara shot a hand over their mouth, as if about to hurl all their stomach’s contents; a queasy, unsettled look emerged on their face and Ushijima was glad that at least he wasn’t the only one suffering. At least he took another one with him.

“That is really...scary…” _No shit, Sherlock,_ Ushijima wanted to scream, but he refrained from raising his voice on a doting parent. Also, he was like 5000% sure Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Daichi, and even fucking Tetsurou would jump him on his way to work and hell, he would _let them._

“How do you even…? You know what? I’m not going to ask.” Sugawara valiantly shook their head in a sad hope of clearing away the disturbing mental images. A strained silence stretched over time as Ushijima sipped his suddenly lukewarm beverage and Sugawara contemplated suicide by eating handfuls of salt.

“Thanks for the coffee.” Ushijima muttered into his cup. It was his favorite one, the one Shouyou forced Iwaizumi to help him pick out for Ushijima on Father’s Day. Scrawled across the black expanse of the mug read, “Best Dad In The World!” in big white letters. Shouyou smiled brighter than the stars in the galaxies when he proudly presented the messily wrapped gift. It was Ushijima’s favorite gift in his whole entire life.

“Um, Ushijima…” Sugawara interrupted that little Ushijima doting over his son spiel. The male swerved his head over to a worried looking Sugawara, whose eyes flickered from the cup of coffee to Ushijima’s obviously-not-okay face.

“Hmm.”

“That’s not coffee.” Oh. That explained the lack of bitterness rivalling Oikawa.

“Hm.” Ushijima continued to sip at the mystery liquid. He honestly didn’t care if Sugawara slipped him toxic waste and rat poison at this point. Breathing the same air as Tendou truly brought out his suicidal tendencies. Amazing.

“That’s prune juice…” _Triggered._

Ushijima stared Sugawara right in his left eye, brought the cup up to his lips, and downed the whole thing in two seconds flat.

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


The first day for Shouyou’s new home didn’t end as well as Ushijima expected. He didn’t think taking care of a toddler would be so _strenuous,_ but here he was, sitting harshly in the wooden chair until he was positive blood was spilling from his clenched butt cheeks while carrot mush and baby spit covered the left side of his face.

“Gwaaah! Bwahaha!” The tiny toddler erupted with noise. He giggled at Ushijima’s unimpressed face and brought down his hands of destruction upon the carrot and pea mush stuck to his high chair. Ushijima immediately called Shirabu.

Fortunately, the man picked up after one ring. _“Wakatoshi.”_

“I don’t know how to take care of kids.” Ushijima honestly said as he carefully wrestled the spoon protruding from Shouyou’s tiny mouth. Shouyou pouted with quivering lips and watery eyes, and he began trembling like loud speakers, and--oh _no_. Just because Ushijima expected Shouyou to burst into tears didn’t mean he could actually do anything about that. He cringed, mentally sending SOS signals to Shirabu in hopes of the man quickly heading over to his house.

Shirabu sighed, deep and long with the patience of a thousand mothers. “ _I’ll be there soon. We’re going to have a nice, long talk on why you shouldn’t recklessly adopt a child and ignore your secretary’s words.”_ Ushijima winced as the tone cut off and Shirabu hung up on him with a huffy sigh. He fixed his attention back onto his wailing son, who sought for comfort but poor, awkward Ushijima didn’t know _how_ to be a functioning, emotional human.

So, he just sat there, staring at the crying child while his ears bled out and he grew deaf in one of them. When Shirabu barged his way into the house with bags brimming around his arms, he only found Ushijima having an intense staring contest with Shouyou’s sobbing form while some classical music from his boss’s playlist drifted in the background.

Shirabu nearly facepalmed. “Wakatoshi, why are you just _sitting_ there?” Ushijima lost the contest once he switched over to giving Shirabu a deadpan. Shirabu gingerly set the groceries and various baby items on the counter. He swept a dirty orange haired toddler up from the soiled mess of his high chair before rocking the babe in his arms. Shouyou immediately latched onto his sweater vest; head tucked into Shirabu’s neck and tears flowing down his skin, Shirabu couldn’t help but fall a little in love with the toddler.

“Don’t just stand there.” He snapped at a gawking Ushijima before gesturing to the grocery bags on the counter. “Go run Shouyou’s clothes through the washer first. You do know how to use a washer, right?” He sincerely hoped his boss wasn’t as incompetent as this. Ushijima stiffly nodded, which wasn’t much reassurance but Shirabu needed Ushijima to act like an actual father instead of an awkward babysitter. This was _his_ son for Christ’s sake!

“Shh, it’s okay, Shouyou.” Shirabu murmured into the warmth of Shouyou’s nest like hair. The babe radiated heat like a furnace; even through his clothing, Shirabu could feel the sunshine from Shouyou as the toddler hiccuped softly and slowly began to calm down.

“That’s my boy.” Shirabu constantly pat Shouyou’s hair, smoothing his long fingers down Shouyou’s back and rocking the toddler in his jiggly arms. It was a tune, the same lullabies mothers sang to their restless children as they gently rocked their tiny child in a soft tune. Up and down, up and down still sounded the same as one, two, three, one, two, three.

Shouyou compliantly lay against Shirabu’s chest, his steady breathing matching in sync with the older male’s. Shirabu used his free hand to swipe his sweat drenched bangs out of his eyes before he resumed his petting. Shouyou muttered, unpeeling from Shirabu’s damp sweater and skin to gaze up at the taller male with intelligible, perceptive eyes. His orbs sparkled like beige galaxies, swirled like mixing hot chocolate mix and hot milk on a freezing, autumn day.

“You’re a sweet boy, Shouyou.” Shirabu complimented. Shouyou laughed, dangerously releasing Shirabu’s sweater to joyfully clap his hands. Shirabu balanced the energetic toddler in his arms, and he managed to grasp onto the wiggly boy with little trouble.

“Sweet boy, sweet boy!” Shouyou laughed as gleefully and brightly as the sun. The missing holes of plucked baby teeth only enhanced his endearing nature, and Shirabu joined in on the laugher. By the time Ushijima walked back into the kitchen, Shirabu was already completely and utterly enamored with Shouyou.

“You should let me adopt him instead, Wakatoshi.” Shirabu suggested, eyeing Shouyou fondly; he was acting so unlike his usual cool and calm personality that Ushijima had to do a double take to ensure his secretary was indeed not a figment of his imagination.

“No.” Ushijima denied. His eyes softened at the sight of Shouyou waddling around on his belly and flopping over dramatically. He would burst into small tinkles of laughter that caused Ushijima’s heart to soar higher than an eagle.

Shouyou rolled onto his back as he balanced a big purple bunny plushie over his head. The floppy ears drooped down onto his face, but he didn’t mind. He welcomed the abiotic creature and stuffed his face into its fuzzy lavender belly. He sniffed wildly at it before jolting it away from his face like it reeked of pungent toilet water.

“Don’t be selfish, Waka.” Shirabu scolded, though his eyes drew back to Shouyou like watching an Olympian perform. “You obviously can’t take care of him by yourself. What will you do on business trips? You’re a busy man, Wakatoshi; don’t treat Shouyou like a replaceable toy.”

“I was not going to.” Ushijima stubbornly insisted. He crawled down on his hands and knees to cautiously approach Shouyou, who momentarily stopped yanking at the bunny’s ears to give his adoptive father his undivided attention. Shirabu snorted; it was hard to believe that a man of Ushijima’s stature and personality was currently crawling on the floor to his son with jerky snake like movements.

“Whatta doing?” Shouyou curiously questioned. He sat up when Ushijima slithered closer until he sat criss cross on the living room floor with his head cocked slightly to the right. Ushijima furrowed his eyebrows in disappointment, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he continued to crawl, crawl, crawl towards Shouyou until his head rested close to the boy’s knee.

“I’m a snake.” Ushijima stoically answered. He made a ridiculous hissing noise, which pulled a quick snicker from Shirabu and tiny bells of giggles from Shouyou. The orange haired boy leaned in a littler closer until their noses almost touched. With a small boop of Ushijima’s nose, Shouyou exploded into a fit of chortles that cleaned the air and brightened up the room.

“You’re dumb, uncle! Dumb, dumb, dumb!” Shouyou sang as he flitted out of Ushijima’s reach. He slid away from his adoptive father with bunny in tow before rolling back onto his belly and lying down with his legs on the ground.

“Don’t call people dumb.” Ushijima softly reprimanded, but it came out in a bear growl that shook Shouyou’s body, and he cautiously peered over at the older man. Ushijima cleared his throat, nearly startling the poor boy, before continuing his awful slithering. Shouyou eventually grew bored of the weird man and averted his attention to the other new toys Shirabu bought for him.

Shirabu finally stopped Ushijima from utter embarrassment (though he taped the whole snake act on his phone) and heaved the bulkier man up. Shockingly enough, the brunette sulked. His bushy eyebrows knit together in frustration, and sympathy washed over Shirabu, molded him like water over smooth rocks. He didn’t doubt that if Ushijima tried hard enough, he would be an excellent father.

“Don’t worry, Waka.” Shirabu encouraged in a flat voice. “You’ll grow on him eventually.” Together, they watched as Shouyou curiously stared at a small volleyball, its criss-cross pattern on the ball raising curious questions in his small mind. Ushijima grinned, a full cheek stretching upturn of his mouth that seemed so unnatural, yet no different from his usual constipated face.

Shirabu smiled to himself. He knew Shouyou would be a positive influence on Ushijima. Now, seeing the taller male obviously grow in adoration towards his son, Shirabu knew Ushijima had done it. He had found true happiness.

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


Ushijima understood the effect Shouyou held over other people. Regardless of age, gender, race, _species,_  everyone just seemed to adore and admire the literal ball of sunshine. Wherever he went, people flocked, following after him like shadows behind the sun. They always remembered his name, recognized the cherry red cheeks tinged with baby fat and the thousand watt smile he pleasantly presented strangers with. Shouyou loved people, and in response, people loved him back.

Naturally, Ushijima--as Shouyou’s number one fan and father--was no different. He was not unlike the older people, who smiled mirthfully in Shouyou’s exuberant nature. His smile rivalled the sun and his friendly, selfless personality captivated people, made them surround him like a god with its worshippers.

Sawamura-Sugawara Tetsurou remained a faithful worshipper, despite his wicked attitude, cunning smile, and deceiving nature. Ushijima didn’t know he could abhor a child so much as he abhorred Tetsurou. He especially hated when the sly kid draped his octopus arms around Shouyou, trapping and suffocating Ushijima’s poor son in a locked embrace. Poor Shouyou would cough and hack, struggling to wiggle free in this spider’s web, but alas, the poor, innocent child of his was already ensnared on the web.

Okay, Ushijima obviously overexaggerated. He wouldn’t listen to anyone though. Not Sugawara or Daichi or Oikawa (not like he listened to the alien fucker in the first place) or Shirabu or even Shouyou himself. He figured his son was just that much of a saint for speaking kindly of Tetsurou as if the other boy wasn’t violating his personal space.

And yeah, Ushijima understood his son’s appeal. He loved his son just as much as any other doting father (not including his own) and he wished to protect his innocent boy from monsters like Tetsurou.

Well, turns out Tetsurou wasn’t the only one he needed to worry about.

One day, when Ushijima happily drove over to Shouyou’s kindergarten with his son’s favorite doughnuts bagge in one hand, the brunette had the unfortunate experience of meeting Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s recent adopted child.

Oikawa-Iwaizumi Koutarou didn’t seem like a bad kid from the start. At least his golden doe eyes and lack of conniving smirks made him appear ten times better than Tetsurou. Ushijima nearly approved of him being Shouyou’s best friend. That is, until Koutarou--that _snake_ \--wrapped Shouyou up into a tight embrace and fucking stole Shouyou’s first kiss!

“He didn’t steal Shouyou’s first kiss, Ushiwaka. Oh my god. Calm down.” Oikawa rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms. The shorter brunette calmly sat on the dirty ground of the classroom, staring up at Ushijima with obvious annoyance as the taller man anxiously tapped his foot on the ground. Ushijima grit his teeth, shooting his old enemy/friend a death glare that Oikawa matched back.

“He _did_. He stole Shouyou’s first cheek kiss.” Ushijima actually pouted. “Only me and Shirabu can do that.” Oikawa just gaped at the dumb, overdoting father. Eventually, Oikawa sighed, rubbing his temples with thin furrowed eyebrows.

“I did that once. I’ve kissed Shouyou’s cheek a few times.” He recalled. Ushijima shook his head defiantly, pinning sharp needle eyes on Koutarou’s back as his son and the gray haired owl boy cutely doodled on the same paper, shoulders meeting and faces nearly brushing.

“You’re happily married, Tooru.” He paused. “Though that’s up for debate.”

“Oh, fuck you too, Ushiwaka.”

“Shh. Not in front of my child.” Oikawa opted to silently flip him off and sulkily turn away from Ushijima. After a few tense minutes, the brunette rose up from his seat in agitation and stomped over to the two boys who remained clueless to the mental fight between their fathers. Oikawa stuck himself to Koutarou like glue, messing up the kid’s ridiculous spiked up hair that complemented Tetsurou’s.

Ushijima frowned as he watched a happy Shouyou laugh when Oikawa stuck a golden star sticker on his nose. Koutarou yelped excitedly, exclaiming, “Papa, me too, me too!” while hooting like a dumb owl. The tall man almost broke down when Shouyou kissed Koutarou back on the cheek when the silver haired boy discovered his adoptive father ran out of golden star stickers and had bestowed the last one on Shouyou.

Koutarou’s face instantly lit up, a hue of pink dusting his cheeks as he grinned like he scored a lifetime of candy. The kid pounced onto Ushijima’s son--and Ushijima had to think of Shirabu’s warning to not start trouble or else he would personally assign Ushijima’s ass out of the country and away from Shouyou--with a fiery vigor and love already clogging up his hormonal lungs (you know, even though these kids were _six)_.

Ushijima could already hear the wedding bells. His heart ached when he thought of Shouyou clad in white--he honestly didn’t care if Shouyou preferred a wedding dress over a tuxedo--while this Koutarou boy probably wore ugly red crocs, ripped jeans, and an oversized, oil stained shirt he pawned off a homeless guy. Koutarou (and sometimes, he imagined Tetsurou) would lift Shouyou up into the sky, almost accidentally drop him, then pucker up his disgusting fish lips that probably reeked of shitty volleyball advice from Oikawa’s side.

Even worse, Shouyou would eagerly listen to Koutarou, absorb all the false lies and information from his new husband like a sponge. Then, he would _leave_ Ushijima with a bright smile on his face and demand Ushijima never speak to him again and Ushijima would cry and cry and cry--

“Jesus Christ, Ushijima. Are you _crying_?”

It was safe to say that Ushijima really needed to chill.

 

 

 


	3. sweet surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ushijima has no chill, especially when it comes to animatronic animals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what's going on anymore
> 
> my bad lmao

 

 

Ushijima didn’t know when it all began. He was fairly certain Shouyou’s “followers” or lackeys or _whatever--_ he didn’t give a flying _shit--_ -only consisted of a hyperactive Koutarou and a crafty Tetsurou. The brunette didn’t like that arrangement, but it’s not like he could deny Shouyou his “best childhood friends”, as Sugawara point blank put it, either. No, his biggest problem lay in his underestimate.

He knew Shouyou drew people to him, but Ushijima didn’t think Shouyou would fucking intoxicate _everyone in his class_. The brunette so happened to find out on a show-and-tell day, in which Shouyou pleaded for Ushijima to come to his class so the orange haired boy could “show him off”. Shirabu continuously commanded for Ushijima to “stop smiling like he just killed someone (Tooru)”, but personally, Ushijima thought his assistant was just fucking jealous of him.

Anyway, Ushijima blindly followed his son’s instructions, even going so far as to wear the hideously beautiful piss yellow minion tie Tendou bought for Ushijima as some lame gag gift. However, since Shouyou was a mere six years old, he thought the tie was some sort of god send, and always enviously peeked over at the tie whenever Ushijima sorted through his numerous ties.

“Shouyou!” And now, here Ushijima lay, buried so deep in envy and overprotectiveness he may as well have been six feet under the ground in a minions coffin. He glared at another petulant child, who wrapped her grimy hands all over Shouyou’s neck in a loose noose. Ushijima narrowed his eyes at the rest of the clingy children, but they paid no heed to his warnings.

“Hey, Shouyou!”

“Shouyou, mommy made me cookies today! Let’s share!”

“Shouyou, wanna play with me?”

“Shouyou, I love you and I hate your father so let’s leave his crusty ass behind and get married in Vegas!” Okay, the last one was obviously a little much, even for Ushijima, but in his deranged mind, he heard all of the above statements.

To his left, Sugawara and Oikawa rolled their eyes at his overbearing nature while Iwaizumi and Daichi lost themselves in nerdy dad talk. If Ushijima were in a better state of mind, perhaps he would have joined the BBQ dads, but alas, he was too absorbed in his own child’s social life than his own.

“This is pathetic, Ushijima.” Oikawa sneered as he propped a sassy hand on his hip. Sugawara nodded in agreement. They crossed their arms with a raised eyebrow when Ushijima nearly sprinted over to his son to separate Shouyou and that cat fuckboy Sugawara insisted as their son.

“Tooru’s right, Ushijima. Just let Shouyou live, flourish--grow into an adult instead of some floozy with major daddy problems.” Sugawara snapped; frankly, they were utterly done with Ushijima’s constant glowers at their child, so they continued to retaliate. Oikawa snickered at their wording, and his smile widened when Ushijima shot both of them murderous looks.

“Shouyou will never become like that,” he sniffed, “unlike your fuckboy of a son.” Someone in the background gasped (probably Daichi). Oikawa clapped a hand over his mouth to stop the tumble of laughter threatening to spill and Sugawara paused as they processed the crass words from their friend.

“...Fuckboy…?” Sugawara murmured, mainly to themselves. Their eye twitched spastically as they began to slowly raise their eyes up to meet Ushijima’s. The small pride from his smart comeback completely deflated. Ushijima could already hear the pathetic farting noise it made, the balloon of his confidence letting loose so much gas, he could smell his own bullshit.

“Did you just call my _son_ a _fuckboy_?” Sugawara rhetorically asked. Ushijima knew he was screwed. If he didn’t answer, Sugawara would shank him with the safety scissors lying innocently on the kiddie tables. But if Ushijima _did_ respond, Sugawara would still slit his throat with a sharpened end of a ruler or something. Either way, Ushijima was in some deep shit.

“Ooh, get him, Koushi!” Oikawa snickered, finding entirely too much entertainment at a nervously sweating Ushijima standing off with a homicidal Sugawara. The silver haired person smiled in that terrifying way the Bible promised Satan appeared, and Ushijima flinched back from the black hole of death emitting from the parent.

In the background, Ushijima could barely conjure up the words from two whispering men, Daichi and Iwaizumi, who muttered bets on Ushijima’s dying ass (“So, do you think he’ll die in one minute or three seconds?” Daichi murmured to Iwaizumi). The tallest male stepped back, attempting to maintain a safe distance from Sugawara, but to no avail.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi,” he calmly called out, and Ushijima swore he heard the chanting of demons and the cackles of its spawns rising up from the pits of hell, “I will not hesitate to slowly saw your arm off with a rusty knife, you _fucker_. If you dare call my child names again, I will chop you up piece by piece until you’re a human vegetable. Then I’ll drain you of your blood with a bendy straw, make a blood pie, and send it to your mom. Your body will be fed to cannibals and I will--”

“Koushi! Koushi!” Tetsurou interrupted the satanic ritual Sugawara was about to perform on Ushijima’s unfortunate life; the brunette finally began to appreciate the little turd (not really), even if he wanted nothing more than to knock Tetsurou off his bike and cackle gleefully.

Sugawara’s demonic demeanor changed abruptly, leaving behind a baffled Ushijima who shuddered when Sugawara shot him a warning glance. Sugawara tended to their son, who proudly puffed out his chest to show off a painting blind people recognized as repulsive. He clamped his mouth shut though, sealed in his inner thoughts and stuffed them in a bottle for him to throw it out to the murky sea of his brain.

Meanwhile, Oikawa hadn’t stopped laughing for five solid minutes while Iwaizumi shook his head with a jocular grin and Daichi wandered off to find better, less insane company. While the raven haired man with impressive thighs chatted with an uninterested Futakuchi, Ushijima decided to seek out his own son.

Having bright orange hair had its perks, he decided as he managed to discover his son in less than three seconds. The boy currently played with a few dolls with two other boys that flanked him on both sides and smiled nervously whenever Shouyou wasn’t looking. But, Ushijima saw. And Ushijima knew all.

He waltzed right over to his charismatic son and contorted his expression to something awful that Tendou once described as, “Shrek having intense hate sex with Kermit the Frog and they were both on fire and everything was on fire because they were in hell”. He almost crowed in victory at the intimidated tremble of the freckled boy’s face and the shrinking back of the white haired boy’s body.

Shouyou noticed him last, but remained as oblivious as always. “Daddy!” He chirped, beaming at Ushijima with a toothy white smile and revealing the masterpiece of a painting he just finished. Ushijima grunted, but appraised his son with tender eyes.

“I finished my drawing, Tadashi!” Shouyou announced to his new friends. He nudged this “Tadashi” lightly with his shoulders and the freckled boy turned such an alarming shade of apple that Ushijima pictured Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer instead of the kid before him. To Shouyou’s right, the white haired boy with no eyebrows gauged the art before him with a scary intense eye that Ushijima almost felt a begrudging awe for. Almost.

“What did you draw, Shouyou?” Ushijima inquired, feeling a smug happiness fill his joy meter when the orange haired boy grinned up at him. The brunette sank down to his knees like his legs turned to jelly blocks. He found entirely too much enjoyment in the other kids’ discomfort, and he almost smiled when Shouyou’s admirers scooted away from him.

“It’s me and everyone I love!” Shouyou exclaimed, nudging his paper full of unintelligible scrawls in different crayon colors towards Ushijima. The older man gingerly picked up the art piece; he did not want to taint his son’s art after all. Besides, Ushijima once heard that human hands--especially fingertips--secreted a copious amount of oil, and he did not want to smudge his dirty fingers all over Shouyou’s hard work.

“It’s nice.” Ushijima awkwardly complimented. Shouyou still smiled at him before he dragged his tiny finger across the forms of his scrawled drawings.

“This is me,” he pointed at an orange stick figure with spiky anime hair, “and this is you!” Shouyou gestured over to a tall, hulking purple blob with random dirt brown scribbles around it. Ushijima thought it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Move over Van Gogh--there’s another amazing artist in this world.

“I see.”

“And this is Koushi and Tooru and Daichi and Hajime!” His fingertips brushed against the colored paper. “Oh, and Koutarou and Tetsurou (here, Ushijima cringed so hard he nearly gave himself a seizure), and my new best friends: Takanobu and Tadashi!” Shouyou excitedly explained as he motioned over to the two boys sitting next to him. Ushijima’s eye twitched.

“U-Um, ni-nice to meet you, sir!” Tadashi squeaked, nearly hiccuping in fear once Ushijima’s beady eyes landed on him. The freckled boy flinched back, a whimper arising from his scratchy throat. Ushijima almost felt bad for him--almost.

The white haired boy just stared. He didn’t speak at all, but he made a grunting noise not too far off from Ushijima’s, and the brunette was almost offended that this punk was mocking the way he talked. Takanobu nodded respectfully, a curt bob of his head only seen on robots in need of oil or new body parts.

Ushijima decided to throw them a bone. They seemed kind enough--and frightened enough. As long as the duo understood that they could not lay their filthy, grubby hands on Shouyou like his friends’ sons did, then the three of them would get along swimmingly. The brunette nodded back at the two.

“SHOUYOU!” Ushijima flinched at the loud cry of one of the trouble boys he despised. Shouyou, on the other hand, perked up. His fluffy hair bounced cutely with him as he scrambled up to his knees in search of the one who called his name. A bundle of white flew past Takanobu and nearly knocked down Tadashi if the boy hadn’t rolled out of the way with a surprised squeal.

Shouyou yelped, but laughter floated from his lips and blessed the world with its pretty tinkling sound. “Kou!” Shouyou giggled, squirming from Koutarou’s ticklish ministrations. Ushijima had to fervently remind himself murder was illegal before he could yank the owl like boy away from Shouyou.

Koutarou grinned, unaware of someone plotting his death, and nuzzled his nose against Shouyou’s cheek. The little boy squealed in delight and let loose a string of pearly guffaws. Koutarou giggled too as he affectionately pecked Shouyou on the nose. Ushijima nearly experienced another stroke when Shouyou responded with a kiss on Koutarou’s cheek.

“Koutarou!” Ushijima nearly groaned aloud. Here came another one. “Didya find Shou?” Tetsurou yelped, walking calmly around the classroom until he finally laid eyes on Koutarou defiling Ushijima’s precious baby. Tetsurou’s eyes lit up--which cast his cat like orbs in an eerie glint--before he stormed over to his two favorite friends and knocked down Shouyou and Koutarou.

“Tetsu!” Shouyou whined, wiggling underneath the combined weight of his friends but with no luck. He finally slumped back down on the ground in defeat after the two kids--Ushijima swore on his life Oikawa and Sugawara spoiled the two with multiple sweets--refused to budge. Tetsurou curled up on Shouyou’s left with a satisfied, smug smile while Koutarou goofily grinned to no one in particular as he occupied Shouyou’s right side.

“I’ll show them the _Norwegian Christmas_ …” Ushijima threatened under his breath, his hand already reaching into his briefcase for his rash cream. Before he could show those young whippersnappers the true meaning of death, two wretched people from the sixth level of hell announced their presence in a dramatic fashion.

“Surprise, binch!” They both ignored the dirty looks some parents sent them.

“I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me!” His counterpart finished the sentence. Ushijima was honestly triggered.

“Oh, Matsukawa, Hanamaki!” Oikawa greeted them with a carefree wave. He grinned at his old friends, who sauntered over to the group of other parents that Ushijima unfortunately also knew. Matsukawa waved while Hanamaki shot the group a peace sign.

“It’s been awhile, huh? Didn’t you say you adopted a kid in our last skype call?” Iwaizumi questioned. Ushijima paled. He shuddered at the remembrance of college (hell). Who was the unlucky son of a bitch that Hanamaki and Matsukawa adopted?

“Oh, our sweet Tada?” _Oh no_. “He’s super shy, but a good kid. In fact he should be around here somewhere…” Hanamaki trailed off as he surveyed the area for his lost child. A sinking gut feeling submerged into Ushijima’s queasy stomach, but before he could hide his large figure behind the bookshelf, Hanamaki’s eyes met his.

“Ah.” Hanamaki uttered in an almost bored tone, but Ushijima knew better. He broke out into a cold sweat. He tried to wipe off the sweat from his clammy palms, but liquid was pouring straight out of his pores, gushing like a waterfall under Hanamaki’s deathly gaze. Speaking of the man, he elbowed his husband and jerked his head in Ushijima’s direction. The brunette could feel the beginning of an asthma attack approaching.

“Oh.” Matsukawa suddenly smiled, his dopey face nearly causing Ushijima to piss himself (like he did at night in the dorm when he was trying to sleep). Barry’s bee-autiful face popped up into Ushijima’s mind. In slow motion, Barry whispered seductively in Ushijima’s ear as the meme couple swaggered their way over, “ _Thinking bee, thinking bee,”_ in the most demonic voice the brunette has ever heard in his entire life. And he personally _knows_ Tendou.

“Ushijima Waka- _yoshi!_ ” _Oh not this shit again._ Ushijima blankly gazed into the dark void of time that reminded him of the inevitably of death. The brunette focused on the light at the end of the tunnel instead of having to suffer in the living realm with these assholes.

“Hanamaki. Matsukawa.” He nodded at them, but didn’t really meet their cunning eyes. If he succumbed to death, maybe he could escape the two. Maybe he could even frame them for his murder. While Ushijima pondered over plucking their hairs when they weren’t looking so he could fake his death and leave their hair on his “dead body”, Hanamaki talked with no filter and Matsukawa interjected at time with his own memes.

Right now, they spoke in thick pirate accents for their pirate roleplay. To complicate matters (and make Ushijima regret ever being _born_ ), they suggestively winked at each other, literal garbage spewing from their lips as the couple hit on each other… as pirates…

“But ye me _matey,_  matey.” Matsukawa clutched onto Hanamaki’s hands. They gazed deeply into each other’s eyes with promises of “checking ye blowhole with me harpoon”, at which Ushijima promptly shut down like a Windows 95.

Oikawa muffled more snickers into his husband’s dumb sweater while Sugawara amusedly watched the weird pirate rp that belonged on shitty anime chat rooms, not in the middle of a show-and-tell presentation inside a kindergarten. Luckily, Ushijima was able to sneak away from the meme fuckers when they wrapped their gay arms around each other. He fled to the safety of the other side of the room, where his son retreated with his small army of followers. They sat around a puzzle, each sticking pieces to create a much bigger picture.

Ushijima narrowed his eyes at the sly children. He didn’t think the kids had the guts in them to explicitly and pervertly declare their love for Shouyou. It was a metaphor again, you see, a metaphor of how each of the kids wanted to stick _their_ own puzzle piece into Shouyou. It was absolutely revolting, and Ushijima wasn’t about to stand around like some coward while these detestable children hit on _his_ son.

“Shouyou.” Ushijima called. Shouyou perked up at his father’s voice. He waved enthusiastically to the older male, gesticulating for his father to join him and his friends on the complicated five hundred piece puzzle they were solving at the moment. Ushijima easily accepted the invitation with not too benevolent thoughts as he settled himself in between Tetsurou and Shouyou. The raven haired boy opened his mouth to protest, but instantly shut it when Ushijima fixed him with a nasty glare.

“We should get donuts on the way home,” Ushijima hinted. Shouyou agreed joyfully, but didn’t understand what Ushijima wanted from him.

The brunette tried again, “I’ll buy you a dozen doughnuts. But the store closes at six.” Shouyou still remained unfazed. Ushijima sighed, smoothed his son’s hair down, and commit to his fate.

He nearly screamed when he discovered sweet looking Tadashi was Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s child.

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

The gray sky marked the beginning of Ushijima’s awful day. He arrived to work late, accidentally wearing his pajama bottoms (Shirabu still holds his blackmail pictures), and one of Ushijima’s clumsier employees tripped, resulting in the cup of steaming coffee being drenched all over Ushijima’s Elmo pajama bottoms and his nice oxford shoes. Shirabu filmed the whole thing because Shirabu was an emotionless sadist who profited off of other people’s misery.

Goshiki panicked, his arms waving in a frenzy as he ran around like a chicken with its head chopped off to find a solution to all these problems. Ushijima sighed impatiently as he sat on his chair with sticky, burned thighs and a ruined pair of his favorite matching pajamas with his son. Nevertheless, he stared straight ahead with no emotions flitting across his face as Goshiki’s screams filled the background with noise. Even further in the back, Shirabu’s snickering could be heard.

“I’m so sorry, sir!” Goshiki apologized for the fiftieth time--Ushijima isn’t sure; he lost count after ten. And yeah, Ushijima liked hardworking Goshiki, and the raven haired man with “cool looking bangs” (according to Tendou, but this is coming from meme overlord Tendou who thinks _Sharknado_ is a brilliant example of sci-fi horror) was ten times better than his boyfriend, Shirabu. But like with everything, there’s a downside to his employee: Goshiki literally _worships_ him.

Ushijima didn’t truly understand the meaning of _aficionado_ until he “accidentally” listens in on Shirabu and Goshiki’s conversation, and Goshiki begins a long and elaborate analysis on Ushijima’s choice of underwear. If that wasn’t creepy, Ushijima isn’t sure what is. So now, he opts to politely distance himself from Goshiki and to hold in his pee so that Goshiki won’t start praising his bare ass or something bizarre like that (and Ushijima wouldn’t put it past him to do so).

Long story short, Ushijima was awkwardly patted down by his inner thighs by an all too enthusiastic Goshiki, Shirabu videotaped _everything_ and sent it to a cackling Tendou, Leon fixed him a sympathetic yet bemused look from across the office, and Ushijima is reminded of how much he regrets hiring his old volleyball teammates from high school.

By the end of the day, Ushijima recites, “ _I want to die_ ,” over a million times (and counting) until it’s imbued into his head and tattooed to his brain. He’s not the last one yet to leave--Shirabu and Taichi are the only ones left--so he relies on Shirabu to lock up the office after he’s done. Ushijima is all too excited to leave work in favor of returning home to his cheery son, but he’s stopped right in his path by a shrill ring of his phone--an all too familiarly haunting sound that chills his bones.

He remembers setting the ringtone for people like Oikawa: annoying and abhorrent, but the person who’s currently attempting to reach his number is a million times worse than Oikawa will ever be. Ushijima breathes in, out, softly uttering an elegant curse from thin, pursed lips. He sits in his car to debate for five seconds before decisively sliding the green phone icon across his screen.

“Hello?” He immediately regrets picking up.

 _“Wakatoshi. You kept me waiting for over ten seconds. Are you really that busy to not be able to pick up for your own father now?”_ He sounds displeased as usual, a hint of disgust coloring his tone a sour, moldy green. Ushijima resists the urge to sigh.

“No, father.”

“ _Have I not taught you perfect manners? I expect better from you, Wakatoshi.”_ Ushijima repressed a long, heaving sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose to stop an oncoming headache threatening to override his system.

“I’m sorry, father.” His father only grunted an affirmation.

“ _Regardless, that’s not the reason why I called you.”_ Ushijima and his estranged father both know that the older male would never call Ushijima without a reason. Ushijima was accustomed to his father’s absence in his life, as well as the cold, indifferent attitude he bestowed upon his only son. Obviously, his father did not care for his son. Obviously, there must have been a massive factor in forcing Ushijima’s father to dreadfully dial the numbers of the brunette’s phone so that they would speak.

“ _I’ve heard from certain sources that you’ve obtained a son.”_ Ushijima wanted to scoff. He knew his father didn’t care about Ushijima’s wellbeing and happiness; he only cared about himself and ways to expand the family business. The younger man started up his car, the humming of the expensive vehicle sating his irritation and fury for now.

“Yes, I have.” He bluntly responded. Ushijima turned on the lowest setting of air conditioning--his stuffy suit did not help to relieve him of the stress of chatting with his father after all.

“ _You don’t have a wife."_  His father accused. Ushijima breathed stiffly out his nose to release the tension in his shoulders. He repeated the action twice before actually speaking.

“I don’t. I adopted.”

“ _An illegitimate child? How will he take over the business?”_ His father demanded. Frankly enough, Ushijima was sick and tired of his father’s grueling nature and surly tone. Now that Shouyou was in his life, he refused to allow his father to possibly corrupt his son by meeting. At that moment, he swore to never permit the older Ushijima to meet his son because he knew his father, and he knew his father _well enough_ to know that the older man would only cause discomfort to Shouyou.

“He won’t. It is up to his decision.”

 _“Don’t be foolish, Wakatoshi.”_ He reprimanded. _“You already dishonored the family name by refusing the various marriage proposals for the company. You’ve disappointed me once, Wakatoshi. I strongly advise you not to do it again."_ He warned. Ushijima grit his teeth. The brown eyed man buckled himself up in the seat before he reversed from the parking space and sped out of the garage at illegal speeds.

“It is up to his decision. If my son does not wish to continue the company, I will not force him to.” Wakatoshi determinedly said. He could already imagine the ugly puce his father’s face would be colored in, and the snarl rising up on the other man’s lips. However, before Ushijima’s self esteem could drop any lower, he interrupted his father.

“I am old enough to control my own life now, father. And now that I have a son--my own _family_ \--I am less inclined to listen to your words. “

_“Why you--!”_

“Take care, father. I’ll talk to you during Christmas.” And with that, Ushijima abruptly hung up on his father. A myriad of different emotions bombarded his brain, his body all at once. He does not prefer to speak with his father unless necessary, but now that he’s a grown adult with a stable job, Ushijima is entitled to his own life without his father’s dictatorship. His mother wholeheartedly agreed, and she supported his actions with all her might.

Still, a somber tone filled Ushijima’s chest. His heart ached at the thought of his indifferent father, and his lonely childhood without anybody to understand him under then a nice game of volleyball. Once upon a time, his father was a decent parent--he _was_ the one to teach Ushijima the sport, after all. Yet, as the company expanded and his visits became less frequent, Ushijima’s father transformed into a bitter, cunning businessman--one unfit to be a loving parent.

So, in his steed, Ushijima swore to himself that if he were to be gifted with a child, he would absolutely care for the child, no matter the cost. He loved Shouyou, loved him with all of his being because Ushijima loved too much. He was awkward and emotionally stunted, but his heart was in the right place.

He grit his teeth, white knuckles gripping harshly on the steering wheel. All he desired to do was return home and bask in his sunshine child’s presence. Ushijima willed himself not to tear up, to allow the biting words of his father to reach his trembling soul. Yet, his stone foundation proved to be unstable, and he could already feel the bricks tumbling down, down, down until his vulnerable heart lay out in the open with no protection.

The car sped down the highway, disregarding the other honking vehicles with laden curses rolling off of sour tongues. Ushijima paid them no mind. All he could think about was Shouyou, Shouyou, _Shouyou_ and all he yearned for was the security and safety of his home. The brunette mashed his dry lips together and hoped to all deities listening that he would not crumble in front of his kind son.

The drive back was a blur. He vaguely remembered parking sloppily in the driveway, yanking out the keys from the ignition, and stomping towards the front door. He clumsily unlocked the door, the jangling of his keys an unbearable frustration, like a reminder of how incompetent he was in not being able to open a fucking door.

Tears sprung up in his eyes. The windows to his soul turned a shade of dark gray, like gray clouds hovering outside a window while rain threatened to pelt off of the glass panes. Ushijima managed to wrench open the front door with a shaky gasp. He felt out of character, so uncomfortably unfamiliar with his own emotional self that he nearly slid and collapsed off the step by the door. The door swung heavy and hard behind him, a slamming that jolted his blaring senses.

“Daddy?” Shouyou called out, curious and happy. Ushijima nearly sobbed. He rushed over to the living room, where his son currently played with Barbie dolls. In one of his hands, he held a brunette while the other was a blond. They froze in mid-air in Shouyou’s grasp as he turned his head to meet Ushijima’s torn gaze. At once, the delighted gleam in Shouyou’s eyes morphed into uncertainty.

Off to the side, Ushijima barely heard a lazy greeting from Tendou (the unfortunate babysitter) before the taller man nearly sprinted over to his son. Shouyou gasped. Ushijima clung onto his son like a lifeline, like Shouyou was the answer to all of his father problems.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?” Shouyou worriedly asked. Ushijima shook his head defiantly; he refused to worry his son like this, even though he technically already was. The brunette did not want his son to have to endure Ushijima’s burdens, especially since his son was only a boy with little understanding of the real world.

“‘m fine.” Ushijima’s muffled reply sounded in the air. His mouth remained on Shouyou’s smaller shirt before he slowly inched away. Ushijima kissed Shouyou softly on the cheek. The boy blinked owlishly, large brown eyes an intelligent flare of golden fire.

“Daddy, who hurt you?” Shouyou quietly asked, his tiny fingers brushing over Ushijima’s shoulders meekly, dipping tiny fingerprints into the paint of Ushijima’s clear tears. Ushijima shook his head sadly. He lightly grabbed onto Shouyou’s much smaller hand, admiring the beauty of childhood before his heart nearly spat out of his mouth.

“I love you, Shouyou.” He said through tears, another onslaught of waterworks brimming around his puffy eyelids. Shouyou blinked, a silly smile growing on his face despite the obvious concern on his knit brows. For once, Tendou remained silent throughout the whole ordeal.

“I love you too, Daddy.” Shouyou replied, patting his father’s cheek affectionately. He giggled, picking back up the dolls he set down to reenact a scene he previously played out for his father. A crooked smile dawned on Ushijima’s face before he erased the worry his father placed on him.

Tendou didn’t question anything. He just silently brooded, staring at Ushijima with lazy, intelligent eyes while the father and son duo played with dolls together. He pursed his lips before scanning his eyes down to his phone, a text already playing on his fingers. After typing out a quick message to a few friends, Tendou sneakily slid his phone back into his pocket before stretching out of his seat on the couch and planting himself next to Shouyou.

The three of them played dolls for the rest of the evening with few thoughts and much happiness.

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

Ushijima didn’t understand how he managed to be roped into another one of Tendou’s “brilliant” ideas (at least, only according to the redhead). He sighed longsufferingly, gazing out the oily, smudged glass windows and hoping that one of the people outside can save him from the darkness he’s become. Trashy emo memes aside, Ushijima fervently reminded himself that he was doing all of this for Shouyou. For Shouyou.

“Hey there, good looking. Having a swell time?” Speak of the demon and he shall appear. Ushijima robotically swerved his head over to regard Tendou with a dead eyed glare. Tendou snickered behind buttery fingers (Ushijima did _not_ want to know why they were so fucking buttery) and plopped down in the greasy booth across from Ushijima uninvited. Fucking rude, ungrateful millennials these days.

“You’re a millennial too, Yoshi-bear.” Tendou pointed out, serving to not only notify Ushijima of his habit of speaking aloud without meaning to and also causing a “stunning” revelation that a) no one appreciated Ushijima’s sarcastic wit and b) Tendou was on his fucking hit list. And not like the _hit list_ aka “who I would be willing to bang” diagram from his college days of death, pain, and suffering. When Tendou was semi not joking (hard to tell when he all too gleefully scribbled down _Obama_ on his “down to bang” notes), it was just downright frightening. Ushijima did not need the information on why Iwaizumi would be “fuckable in a tutu”--whatever that meant.

After a tense silence befell them, in which Ushijima not too joyfully reminisced his particularly scarring college life with Tendou and Tendou thought about things probably morally wrong and disgusting, Ushijima surprised them both by opening his mouth.

“Why did you bring Shouyou and I to this... _place_?” Ushijima grimaced as he stared down at the stage, wondering exactly when a kid’s place reeked of sweat, tears, and oleaginous pizza. Or maybe he was just sniffing himself out of pure insanity. Anyone would be driven mad to death if they even thought of this god awful place.

“Oh, Ushi-boy,” Tendou shook his head in mock disappointment. His wide eyes sparkled with something maliciously smarmy, like the greasy pizza lying out in one of the other tables Tendou reserved for this little “party”. The brunette was partly alarmed, partly exasperated at the expression.

“Don’t call me that.” Ushijima frowned, but it was more like a spastic twitch of his face than an actual downturn of his lips. Tendou clicked his tongue.

“Miracle Boy Ushi…” Like _that_ was any better. “You will one day understand that this place cultivates childlike joy and wonder alike!” He finished his proud exclamation with a flourish of his hands, eyes alit with a fiery passion Ushijima found in Johnny Test’s flaming ass hair.

“This is…” Tendou pauses for dramatic effect, fingers annoyingly drumming the slippery table like a faux drum roll. “CHUCK E. CHEESE’S!” His loud as fuck volume reached the kids from hell as they cheered at the mere mention of the animatronic mouse on the stage.

Ushijima shuddered as the singing rat jerkily moved its razor sharp steel mouth to sing some dumb song that sounded suspiciously like one of those catchy kid tv shows theme song, but not enough to be copyrighted. His spine nearly spasmed out of his asshole with his shit when the mouse’s beady eyes and dangerous metal head tore over to meet him dead in the eye.

“Do you see the majesticness of this sacred haven, Waka-Waka? Do you feel it now, Mr. Krabs?”

“Tendou…” Ushijima’s face morphed into something straight out of a horror film. Except he wasn’t the creepy little girl dragging her armpit hair out of the well; he was the person receiving the phone call with only seven days left to live. But instead of seven days, it was seven fucking seconds.

“You know I’m not fond of animatronic animals.”

“Doth my ears deceive me? Waka-moshi-moshi-motherfucker is _afraid_ of something? The great and all powerful wonderboy Wakatoshi?” Tendou dramatically spewed out. Ushijima gave him a deadpan glare.

“You already knew that.” He accused, but Tendou turned a blind eye (or in this case, a deaf ear) to Ushijima’s case. It was almost as if Tendou liked other people suffering. Almost.

“I did?” Tendou gasped. Ushijima was not amused.

“Tendou.” He warned, eyebrows furrowing together. Tendou smiled that infuriating upturn of his lips similar to that one trashy clown character from _Hunter x Hunter_ before he shrugged casually.

“Ah, well. Duty calls.”

“You don’t work here.”

“But alas, my dear lover misses me too much!”

“Semi is not here at the moment, Tendou.”

“Ta-ta, Ushiwaka!” And with the gracefulness of an elephant on intense drugs attempting to hump a camel, Tendou bounced up to his feet and swaggered off to pester someone else. Hopefully he would creep out Oikawa enough for the male to snatch up his STD infested son (nevermind the fact that again, he was like _six)_  and leave both him and Shouyou alone.

Ushijima sighed, watching as Tendou scampered off to where the other kids were, most likely searching for followers to convert to _Shrekism._ Well, one could dream.

“Ushijima,” Shirabu popped out of nowhere, sporting a blank look with a pair of mouse ears on his head and holding a plate of oil drenched pizza in one of his “mouse paws”. Ushijima stared out of the window like he was staring into the camera in _The Office_. He caught a cool smudge of a chicken nugget on the stained glass before Shirabu’s droning voice dragged him back into the one sided conversation.

“So how are you feeling about the whole animatronics thing?” Shirabu calmly asked, plopping down in the filthy seat the redhead meme overlord once sat in. He appeared as soothingly calm as any supportive parental figure, despite the fact that he looked like a furry lost backpacking in a Disneyworld stumbled upon a Chuck E. Cheese’s to make out with the furry monstrosity backstage.

“Hng.” Ushijima grunted out, already feeling nausea on this wild roller coaster ride of fear build up to the back of his throat. Shirabu nodded sagely.

“Your fear of the steel mouse haunts you to this day.”

“Mhhmm-hrrg.” Ushijima imitated a dying, squawking seagull. Shirabu only nodded again.

“I’ve only heard of the stories from Tendou.” Here, he casts a sympathetic look to the slowly dying Ushijima, who’s attempting to stave off a heart attack by pure will alone. “Like how Tendou forced you to play that one game… Five Nights at… Chuck E’s or something?” Ushijima shook his head wildly, knowing the cursed game by heart but his rattling ministrations only served for him to look like he was shaking uncontrollably with terror and PTSD.

“Look, Ushijima,” the taller male’s eyes darted down to the mouse paw on his hand while Shirabu fixed a patient, kind eye on his boss, “I do care about you a lot--mainly because you're my boss and the captain of our volleyball team long ago, but I do care about your well being.” He babbled on and on about stuff Ushijima would have found heartwarming any other day if he wasn’t sweating nervously under the rat’s beady eyes. Hell, he could have been foaming at the mouth and keeling over to die, but his asshole friends would have continued to fuck around in a Chuck E. Cheese while Shirabu ranted about how Ushijima didn’t pay him enough (his wallet screamed bullshit).

“--so basically, once you die, I promise to take care of Shouyou.” _Shouyou._ Oh _fuck_. Ushijima snapped his head up so fast, the world spun around him. Shirabu finally released his grubby paws on Ushijima’s life, allowing for the single father to manically restart, rise up, and search for his kid. It’s been fifteen minutes since Ushijima last checked up on his son and his “friends”; who knows what heinous acts Koutarou and Tetsurou were performing on his precious son?!

Ignoring the random calls from Shirabu, Ushijima marched over to the front stage where most of the children were gathered like a soldier on a classified mission. He ignored the cackling from Tendou and a few worried words from primarily Sugawara (though a few were from Oikawa since he figured Ushijima was after his child’s blood), completely dead set on finding his son and escaping the hellhole the monstrous animatronic rat resided in.

Finally, Shouyou’s light orange hair caught his attention. Unfortunately, Koutarou and Tetsurou each held onto one of his son’s hands. And also unfortunately, a person dressed like the fuckboy version of Chuck E. Cheese himself decided to announce their presence by stepping out of the curtains from backstage dramatically and waving their filthy paws to the stunned children around them.

“Hey, kids!” A partially deep voice merrily greeted the squealing children. Part of the crowd of others around his age, Shouyou yelped “hello” back while waving both of his occupied hands to try to catch the mouse’s attention. Flanking him on either side, Koutarou and Tetsurou bore matching grins as they called out for the mascot and shared identical starry eyed looks with pink cherub cheeks aimed at his son. Ushijima did not notice.

He shuddered. The animatronic mouse had long stopped singing with unsteady dance movements, like a puppetmaster yanking at Chuck E. Cheese. However, once he stopped moving completely, his mouth remained open, halted until the next act and resembling a paused moment in the middle of a movie. His deadly black eyes consumed Ushijima with fear; the mouse’s motion was turned off, but the burning hatred and evil in his eyes were not. Ushijima stepped back out of instinct, eyes wide.

“And Happy Birthday to Jeremy!” The mascot yelped out “enthusiastically.” They must have been some college intern that needed an extra buck. _Or a malevolent murderer who lures children into the backstage like in that one game Tendou forced me to play._

Either way, Ushijima remained glued on the spot. He wanted to move forward, to scoop up his son into his arms and run out of the place without a single look back. However, the animatronic mouse on the stage stood directly behind the screaming children surrounding the suspicious mascot.

 _Face your fears, Wakatoshi._ Ushijima determinedly thought. The muscles in his calves ached from the strain of being clenched tightly out of horror. He grimaced, but pressed on, slowly inching his way to the children and appearing more like a predator than the person in the mouse suit. Behind him, his friends collectively sighed and/or smacked their foreheads. It didn’t help that some of the other parents who didn’t know him were eyeing him warily.

Just as Ushijima was about to tackle the mouse down and save the children and the establishment from a lawsuit, Tendou swooped in out of nowhere and swiftly performed the job Ushijima originally intended to do. The redhead bodily threw himself at the mouse as the other was bent down throwing tickets out of his Easter looking basket to hungry children. Ushijima blinked, mildly impressed.

The person in the suit didn’t put up much of a fight. A hushed silence fell over the watching parents while the children stayed oblivious as they scooped up as many tickets as their tiny hands possibly could. Ushijima nearly smiled, about to applaud his friend for actually doing something decent for once until Tendou bounced off the person and the head of the mascot rolled off.

The almost smile on Ushijima’s face was promptly bitch slapped off by Tendou’s grinning lips and another familiar face that the brunette honestly hoped was not the actual person. _Yeah, right,_ he thought miserably, eyes black as his soul.

For there, in front of his feet with children crawling around them in search for tickets (and some more desperate ones grabbing the actual basket while wrestling each other for the spoils) was Semi fucking Eita (more like Ei-diot-a) in a goddamn mouse suit with a lapful of Tendou as they sucked more face than Ushijima’s expensive vacuum cleaner. Ushijima sighed.

Goddammit, Tendou.

 

 


End file.
